Busy As A Beaver

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“It’s like his butt turns into a water gun every time he farts.”

Yup, just another normal day at the vet clinic.

“How long has this been happening?”

The owner of the ‘water gun’ in question was a large black lab named Cheeseburger, though he went by ‘Burg’ most of the time, after his owner brought him home as a puppy and he promptly managed to climb onto a chair and grab a McDonald’s cheeseburger off the dining table and run off with it.

Now, however, Carol was worried. She was in her early fifties, with curly brown hair that was just starting to go gray, and her brown eyes were wide as she stroked Burg soothingly. “Since last night,” she replied.

“Come on, she could have described it a bit more elegantly than that,” Burg complained, and I smiled. Obviously, in front of their owners, I couldn’t reply to the animals. I figured it would lose me most of my clientele pretty quickly. Not to mention probably get me locked up in an asylum.

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